Lifestyles of the Caprine Free and Rose Bush Rich
This is the first year since 2003 that I haven't had to deliver any goat kids! Around this time every year, for thirteen years in a row, kids would start arriving out in my barn. Due to some family health issues and tragedy we sold our entire herd of 25 goats this past year.
I can't say that I miss being covered in birth fluid and placenta. Or running out to the barn to turn a breech delivery around. My small hands have seen some biological horrors during my tenure as a goat midwife. Although, I must admit that I sometimes miss the fulfillment that I gleaned when saving a newborn and/or mama's life.
A lot of people see goats and think; "Oh! How adorable!"
I look at goats and think:
"When's the last time you had a hoof trim?"
"Is the feed bin closed?"
"Which one of you left hoof prints on my car?"
"How'd you get your head stuck in there?"
"If that buck pees on his face and curls his lip in my general direction one more time I am going to get the banding tool out!"
You know, goat owner thoughts.
Don't get me wrong, I think goats are adorable and useful. It is hard to eclipse the creatures when it comes to weed control, meat, milk, soap, and the most amazing ice cream. Their entertainment and companionship value is without end. They are also mischevious, prone to predator annihilation, escape artists, causers of worry, somewhat expensive, and destructive.
This line of thinking got me to pondering some goat pros and cons:
After many years of escape goat-trimmed plants, I got to see what the rose bushes around my house actually look like in full bloom this past summer. Wow!
Sure, I don't have the milk anymore, but as I have never liked animal sourced milk; that's not too much of a thing to miss.
I do have to actually weed eat and mow the weeds around the farm now. I suppose that is a negative, but as I have a lot less fencing repairs to do, I now have the time for such endeavors.
There are no longer a surplus of goat droppings around the farm. This of course means that I don't have to make sure that I really keep an extra special eye on visiting toddlers. Goat manure gleams like ground candy to anyone under three. This development has both positive and negative connotations reverberating in my life.
It's going to be tough, but I think I am going to endeavor to continue my goat free existence, one which includes lying here, in January, in my bed, not covered in blood and straw. I shall not miss the dipping of umbilical cords in Betadine, or the clamping of said cords. Nor will I miss being used as a stationary item for baby goat Parkour. Indeed, my life without goats is lacking in the "me being filthy most of the week" department, and I must say that I am truly enjoying my caprine sabbatical.
And as always, the photos in the post were taken either on my defunct old digital camera or my goat dander-coated iPhone.